WolfPrince
by Courtney of Many Dimensions
Summary: JUST A MUSE! MIGHT NOT BE CONTINUED!The Valar ask God and Mother Nature to send one of their own to Arda to assist in the upcoming war. Join him on his adventure through Middleearth. AU OC set 30 years before the joining of the Fellowship.


In the society of today, the majority of people survive and rely on one thing: technology. No-one can deny that one true fact. But, there are some who live without it. Mainly known as the "Tree-Huggers" this small group of people live with Nature, and are blessed with healthy, long-lived lives. They are granted with Nature's Blessing, and in return, they become servants of Nature. This is the tale of one such servant. A man in the eyes of one's such as yourself, but merely a child in Mother Nature's eyes.

There is another world, one that is hidden in the shadow of Earth with an ancient magic since the Dawn of Time. There, the God's still rule; Arda, it is called. In grievous times, the Gods of Arda, the Valar, have come to ask a favour of Earth's Lord and Saviour. He grants their request, and with the help of Mother Nature, he fulfills it.

It was a cool spring day, the birds of the forest twittered in delight, singing beautiful melodies to one another. Squirrels chased each other up and down a tall, old oak tree, mindful of a young man lying against the tree, reading a novel. He had been there in the past, everyday, never doing anything other than daydreaming, reading, or sleeping away the afternoon. The animals had grown used to his presence, and began to expect it, as he would more often than not bring food, always offering to share it. The birds floated down to him, landing on his shoulder and nipping his ear affectionately, eliciting a soft chuckle. He reached a pale hand into a kitbag he carried and pulled out a bag of different kinds of seeds.

"Dig in guys, there is plenty more where that came from." he spoke softly, in a kind and gentle voice.

The birds chirped merrily as they ate out of his hand filled with the seeds they considered a delicacy. They ate their fill, only succeeding in emptying one of the many bags of seed in the teen's kitbag. He opened another pouch, pulling out a book to begin reading.

"Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring -- I think it'll be a good read, what about you guys?" he asked, his gentle laughter bringing out a sparkle behind his fair blue eyes curtained by dirty blonde hair.

One of the black-capped chickadee's hopped onto the wrist that he was holding the book in. It pecked the book lightly a few times, and then flapped its wings in approval. He smiled, snuggling into the trunk of the old oak, settling in for a good read. The birds flew off, leaving him to read on, and let his great imagination take him on the greatest quest of a lifetime.

_**Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,**_

_** Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone**_

_**Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,**_

_** One for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne**_

_**In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.**_

_** One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,**_

_** One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them**_

_**In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.**_

The poem echoed in his head as he read the prologue, becoming so loud that he closed the book in frustration. He rubbed his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. He opened the book again, becoming shocked that there was no longer any text. He closed and reopened it several times, but none of the ink that was previously there, came back.

"Well so much for that, all I get is an annoying poem stuck in my head, and a blank book that means nothing." He set it down and rubbed at his temples. "Not even worth the trouble of getting it."

He picked up his kitbag and rearranged it to make a suitable pillow; he lay his head down, falling asleep quickly.

* * *

The empty book glowed faintly, before opening without any aide. A date appeared on the top corner of the page, and more writing began to appear.

_**You wish for an adventure, for an escape away from the harsh society of your world. Only **__**if you really wish so, will it be granted to you. There are two paths you must choose from. Tread carefully, for one path will invoke many dangers, many betrayals, and much heartbreak. **_

_**The other will be no less dangerous, but with the love and friendship you find, it will be **__**much easier to travel. Choose now, Son of neither Darkness, nor Light. What do you desire; to stay, or to escape? **_

And in his sleep, his answer came easily, "I choose . . . . Escape."

* * *

The peaceful sleep left him feeling refreshed and energized. The air smelled cleaner, the sunlight felt warmer, and all was good. The birds sang a different tune, one the teen of 19 years did not recognize. He opened his blue eyes which held a great curiosity. Others would be confused to wake up in a forest that they had not fell asleep in, but this young man stayed calm. He sat up and looked around at his surrounding's, his eyes giving away none of the inner turmoil in his heart. He knew that this forest was not his own, yet he felt no reason to panic.

He stood, hefting his kitbag over his shoulder, and picking up the empty book, which now held no title. He opened it, flipping through the wordless pages. He stopped when writing began to appear.

_**Head North-west to a mountain cave, there you will find what you**_

_** will need to survive.**_

_**You will find with you a sword and scabbard, a small round shield, a bow and quiver of arrows, and a travelling cloak.**_

_** Take great care, this world can be a most dangerous place to those who are**_

_**foolish enough to think that they are safe.**_

_** Stay off the road, and do not trust anyone who does not earn it and you will be Safe.**_

_**Go now, the Valar will guide and protect you.**_

He closed the book and looked around for the items that the book stated. He found them propped up against the old oak he had slept by. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, he took the sword that was in its scabbard and attached it to his belt. He grabbed the dark green cloak, and swung it around on his back, attaching it with a broach that was in the shape of a wolf.

"This has got to be the oddest dream, I have ever had." he said to himself, "But I think I am going to like it."

He picked up the two-feet in diameter shield, and strapped it to his arm. He laughed at himself, thinking how foolish he must have looked. He strapped the quiver of arrows to his back, and held the bow in his left hand. His father had taught him survival lessons when he was young, and they were a second nature to him now.

_"The Wild is an unforgiving place my boy; you can die in a second if you take your guard down. Nature gifts those who earn it, who __**respect**__ it. Respect Nature and you will be safe."_

His father's words had always confused him. From what he knew, Nature was an unforgivable force, and respect was not going to change that. But, his father had drilled it into him to respect Nature, and respect Nature he did. He grew attuned to Nature, and animals all around were not afraid of him, or dangerous to him.

He looked to the sky, to gather his bearings, and found that the North-west was to his left. He grabbed his kitbag again, and then took his first step in the journey of his life-time.

* * *

The walk to the cave was a long one, lasting far into the evening. The setting sun set the sky ablaze with colours of red and orange. He climbed up onto a rock to check out his surroundings. There was a small river to the North, about a ten minute walk from the cave. To the West, as far as he could see, were mountains. The Southern and Eastern areas were all forest. He cocked an arrow on his bow, then quietly and cautiously, he made his way over to the cave. He sniffed the air, looking for the familiar scent of wet fur. He was absolutely not planning on intruding on a bear den, no matter how important whatever was in that cave was.

He picked up a rock in the entrance of the cave and tossed it in lightly, then listened for movement. There was something, a scratching, and a whimpering noise. He whistled, and in return, he heard a little yip. Whatever was in the cave, was a canine. He took a few steps in, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. He could see movement at the back of the cave, small shadows bounced around on the walls.

"Hey there," he whistled, and more yips sounded and he lowered his bow and put away the arrow, "Come here little guys. Come on!"

The scampering of tiny paws came closer, and he held out a hand for the curious noses to sniff. Three cold noses skimmed over his hand.

"Where is your mother, young ones?" He asked in a calm and melodious voice.

The three pups bounded away, and he followed them with care, not wishing to step on them. His eyes were accustomed to the dark now, and he could make out the vague shape of a huge mass of fur. He gasped, coming to the surprising conclusion.

"So _that's_ your Mum, eh?" He stopped went he caught the scent of blood, "Oh no. . ."

The mother's side was covered in blood, but her laboured breath's could still be heard. He looked in his kitbag for his handy little flashlight that charged when shook. After a few seconds of searching, he found it, charged it, and then turned it on to see the damage. It was not a gory sight, and was only a knife wound, but it was a deep one. He looked again in his bag for anything that he could stop the bleeding with, if only for a little while. The name-less book was glowing again, and he went to grab it. It was warm, with a calm feeling to it; and he felt that warm feeling wrap around his right hand and up his arm, leaving a red-coloured design in its wake. It opened again, and more writing began to appear.

_**"The Gift of the Healing Aura is one of the many You will acquire on**_

_**your journey. Use it Wisely, for it takes a great deal of Energy**_

_**to use it successfully.**_

_** Concentrate on the cut mending itself at a slow, but steady pace.**_

_**Too fast, and it will cause a great pain to the Silver One."**_

He looked at the warm, red-coloured designs, rolling up his sleeve to the elbows where they stopped. The designs were smooth, and cool to the touch; the curves were gentle, and they glowed faintly. He kneeled down by the huge mass of silver fur, and laid his hand gently overtop the wound. He closed his eyes, and pictured the cut slowly closing, as if it was being stitched shut from the inside, out. Remembering the feeling of getting blood drawn from his arm at a doctor's appointment, he found it was very similar to the feeling of healing the cut. His vision grew bleary, and once the cut was fully healed, he collapsed onto the warm mass, slipping into a deep re-energizing sleep.

_"Wake up child."_

He groaned, breathing in deeply, capturing the musky scent of fur, with the tangy smell of blood. He opened his eyes, only to gaze into golden eyes. He froze, but then he remembered what happened before he fell asleep. He lifted himself up slowly, never breaking the gaze of the wolf. Such wisdom held in her eyes gave that little fact away, along with the familiar eye-colour.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his eyes breaking the gaze to examine where her wound used to be.

_"My body aches, but I will survive, child." _she shifted to examine him closely,_ "So, it is You; You are the one that has come to me in my visions of late. The human-child who is One with the Valar, and Nature." _a wise and ageless female voice spoke, _"My vision tells me to guide you, for you are not of this World; and guide you I shall, child."_

"W-what? You can speak?" He inquired, his stutter revealed his shock.

_"Yes, but only to you and my other kin. You are an honorary member of the Silverfang tribe now. I thank-you for saving me, any longer as I was and I would have died, and shortly after, my cubs would have as well."_

"I could not bear the thought of one as magnificent as you, dying by a blade. Trust me on this, if you were to die, I would look after your cubs. But, I do have a few questions."

_"What is it child?" _The wolf urged.

"Where exactly am I? And what do you mean, 'I am part of your tribe now'? I am no wolf."

A deep, throaty chuckle was the answer he received_. "Oh child, you are in Middle-earth of Arda. And you are a part of our tribe, because of when you healed me; something was given to you in return. And that gift is our senses, the ability to communicate with us, and our eyes. Your eyes are wolf eyes now."_

"No offense to you, but I would very much like to stay human."

_"You have no need to worry about that, for you are still very much human. You have only gained those attributes, nothing more, and nothing less. Something tells me that you will gain an attribute for every being that you heal; be it man, elf, or beast alike."_

The nineteen year-old was awed, "Well, I suppose that does not sound too bad."

The she-wolf chuckled once more, and then stood up.

_"Come child, I have much to teach you, and you have much training that needs to be done if you are to be able to use your senses without them overwhelming you."_

"Training?" He cried, incredulous, "Marvellous . . . and my name is Caleb, not _child._"

_"Of course, Caleb-child."_

"Ugh . . . close enough."

* * *

Days passed, and the man called Caleb learned quite a lot about the land of the Silverfang tribes, and the rest of Middle-earth. His senses were still going hay-wire, but he was slowly adjusting to his enhancements. The she-wolf, Mortia, basically adopted him as one of her own, much to his amusement and surprise. He was now the son of a wolf, and prince of a wolf tribe. Who would've thought?

Caleb was walking back to his new home, the cave, from the small river that was nearby it. He had just noticed another change on his body; his hair was almost the same colour silver as the wolves, but had more white in it, and he also grew in size, now a baffling six-foot seven-inches (eight inches higher than he was originally). He was surprised that he wasn't as clumsy as a newborn colt with his new height.

He arrived at the cave, shouting for Mortia.

_"What is it Caleb-child? You sound as if you have an army of orc-scum after you!"_

"I have changed AGAIN! I have become a damn GIANT for crying out LOUD!" he shouted angrily, his voice echoing off the cave walls.

_"Calm down Caleb-child, you are scaring your sisters."_

He glanced over to the mouth of the cave, where the three cubs in question were trembling in fear of his anger. He calmed instantly, rushing over to reassure them that they had nothing to fear. He sighed, petting Niñala, and letting Minna and Aladra play-bite his other hand.

He shook his head, berating himself silently before asking Mortia again, "I am sorry, but what is happening to me? I thought all the changes were done!"

Mortia walked over and sat down in front of him, nuzzling his head softly.

_"Child, I am sorry, but I do not have the answer that you seek. You should consult that book of yours. But I have to say, the human's would be jealous of you now."_

"What? Why is that?" he cocked his head to the side in an unknowingly cute manner.

_"Oh, never you mind." _she chuckled.

Caleb looked at her suspiciously, but asked nothing more. He got up after much bribing of his adopted wolf-sisters that he would play with them later. He went into the cave, which was now lit with a small fire, looking for his kitbag which held the name-less book. He opened it, and immediately, writing began to appear.

_**There will be more changes, so suck it up.**_

He almost laughed. Almost.

* * *

Hunting with wolves was a different experience, though most of it came by instinct. It had been six months since he had appeared in Middle-earth, and he was adjusting very well. No homesickness, no more drastic changes in his appearance (though he grew five more inches, and his nails became hardened and claw-like), and no other unwanted excitement. The three wolf cubs, which at first were about the size of a normal, German shepherd puppy, were now two times bigger than a Doberman. They were still small compared to Mortia, but still very large nonetheless. They were in a triangle formation, with Mortia in the lead, Minna and Aladra taking the right and left positions in the back, and Niñala in the center with Caleb. They were not hunting for the normal prey of other wild life, for Caleb refused to join on those expeditions, but were hunting a band of orc's that were not a half a day ahead of them.

Caleb was feeling a mix of nervousness along with a strange thrill-of-the-chase feeling. He supposed that it was one of the many effects of the wolf that now resided in him. He could smell the orc band, and a low rumbling erupted from his chest. He was looking forward to this encounter, and he eagerly picked up his pace. He felt no need to rest from the constant running, something he found entirely convenient and in no way unwanted. Maybe he could finally run a marathon and actually complete it with having an attack, or better yet, without coughing up his own lungs.

_'My mind has become very gruesome and morbid place, better stay out of it . . . then again, don't want to come off as the crazy type.'_

The pace was quickened further when Mortia announced she caught wind of the scent of men, most likely ahead of the orc's. Caleb hurried up to his adopted wolf-mother and she nodded at him.

_"You should lead now Caleb; those orc's are more than likely after the men. When we encounter them, you will have to stay their hand, for they may shoot us on sight."_

"Yes Mortia; I think it will be good to see some of my own kin after all this time." A small smile made its way onto his handsome face, "We should make all haste. We need to get to the men before the orc do."

The three sister cubs shouted (or howled, whichever way you look at it) out there approval of his plan.

_"Let us make haste, my claws pine for the death of orc." _Minna growled out eagerly.

Settled on that agreement, they took off at a breakneck speed.

It was only minutes later when the smell of blood reached his sensitive nose. A louder rumble than before erupted from his chest, and he sped up even more. The clash of swords was ringing out in the air, and the stench of the orc overwhelmed his senses. The orc, it seemed, had either caught up with the men, or the men had sensed their presence and stood their ground to fight. He grabbed his bow, and knocked an arrow; they were in sight now, and he spotted two orc that were in his range. He halted and jumped up into a low hanging branch to get a better view.

He pulled back, steadying his breath (which sped up in anticipation, not from the running), then released.

He felt his vision leaving him, following the arrow on its path straight to the heart of the orc. _That was different_, but he shook it off quickly and took out the other orc. Whatever happened, it did not repeat.

He put his bow over his shoulder and drew his sword. "At the sound of my whistle, come charging in and kick some orc ass, alright?"

_"Yes! Now go, and hurry up too!"_ Aladra shouted, and Minna and Niñala nodded eagerly.

He laughed loudly, and then took off, jumping from tree to tree in the direction of the battle ahead. It was a large open area where the main battle was taking place, and he took a great leap, jumping right into the minute of it. Training and instinct took over, and his vision grew red with bloodlust.

His sword sang as he swung it through the air, decapitating a head of an orc. He whirled around and gutted another as it came behind him with the intent to kill, he had caught the attention of the orc; and the men glanced over at him with the slightest of fear and awe. He ducked under a swinging sword, and stepped around, grabbing an orc by the head (which was particularly ugly) and twisting it cleanly; brutally; the crunching of the bone chilled his conscience, but his bloodlust revelled in it. He let out the signal whistle, and in return, he heard Mortia and the three sister's answer with a piercing howl.

He carried on, killing orc's one by one; earning more and more attention from the other orc's. Soon he was fighting off three, four, five, orc's at a time. He was cut on his right thigh when he was distracted by a small cry for help. The bloodlust cleared away from his mind slowly, and he jumped out of the way of a black blade aimed at his heart. He scanned the clearing, smirking in satisfaction; the orc's numbers were cut down severely. He whipped around to the right when he heard a louder cry than before. He ran off in the direction, manoeuvring around dead bodies, and dodging arrows and swords.

There was a large group of men standing guards around two horses, which bore a man (who was holding onto a small boy, possibly his son), and a women (possibly his wife, who was looking very pregnant). The guards were fending off the orc's admirably well, and he decided to jump in and assist them. He blocked two arrows that were head for a guard who wasn't able to react in time. He looked over at Caleb in shock, and then nodded his head in gratitude, continuing to fend off another orc coming his way. Caleb took out his bow and looked around for the offending archers; spotting one, he loosed an arrow at it, the similar vision of following the arrow to its heart repeated.

_Goddamnit that is going to get annoying fast._

He heard the scream of the boy, and turned to see an arrow protruding from the man's shoulder. Caleb was able to confirm that the two were father and son, for the boy kept shouting 'father!' repeatedly, but he quickly shoved that thought to the back of his mind. He spotted the archer thirty feet away, and shouted to Mortia who was the closest to the foul creature's position.

"Mortia! Up in that tree, the archer!"

_"I see him. Hold on!"_ He only had to wait for a moment for her to jump and snatch the creature into her great fangs, killing it agonizingly slow by crushing it little by little.

_'She is QUITE the sadist . . . Shit! -- Another goddamn archer!'_

He wasn't able to react in time; the archer had loosed its arrow, with its sights set on the fair, pregnant women on the horse. Everything slowed down, and with a curse and not another thought, he moved.

The arrow thudded into his chest, and another colourful curse was let out of Caleb's mouth. All he felt was the agonizing burning of the arrow; the howls of very pissed-off wolves faded into the background. There was cheering; the battle was won; the men, victorious with the wolves help, now came over to surround him. He could hear the distraught words of Niñala and Minna, and he shook away the darkness threatening his mind.

"G-Goddamnit! Tha-that really hurt --" he was cut off with a coughing fit. "Someone pull this damned arrow out of me before I do it m-myself."

A man stepped forward, Caleb recognized him as the one he saved from the onslaught of arrow's.

"Whoever you are, you must realize that it would kill you if we pulled it out--"

A chuckle escaped, turning into a coughing fit, "Do not think me to be so easily killed. It is safe to say though, that if you leave it in there, I will die slowly from the poison. Pull. It. Out. Now."

He looked nervous as he knelt down beside Caleb, but the nineteen year-old found himself amazed at his courage. He wasn't really expecting him to actually do it. He caught the man's eye and nodded after he wrapped his hands around the shaft of the arrow.

"If that child his still here, don't let him look," he took a few struggled breaths as he began to feel the effects of the poison, "Do it. Pull!"

He clenched his teeth, and then the pain came. The agonizing, fiery, hellish pain. It was all Caleb could do to just stay conscious; he gripped something, the man's hand that pulled out the arrow. He heard the bones snap, and the man's muffled cry. He let go quickly, as if something had burnt him. He groaned, and he lifted his right arm, which felt as if there was a thousand pounds of weight on it, and placed it on his chest where the wound was.

He took in harsh and strangled breaths, waiting until it calmed down to do the next step. He focussed on where the wound pierced; through his rib cage, and dangerously close to his left lung. Any farther to the right, and the arrow would have pierced right in his heart. He closed his eyes and focussed on the healing process; the markings on his arm warmed, and began to glow for all to see. He focussed on the wound reattaching itself, from the inside out; he took notice that it was not as tiring to heal himself, as it was to heal another.

_'Useful tidbit. . .'_ he thought to himself, smirking inwardly.

Caleb almost sighed in relief when he felt the wound close over. He then searched for the poison that was slowly spreading to his heart, thought there wasn't a lot for the arrow was pulled out before it had enough time to seep in. When the fogginess in his mind was gone, only then did he allow himself to sigh in relief. "There, done. No more heroics for a _**very**_ long time now."

A cold nose hit him harshly on the head.

Niñala growled, _"You great idiot! You are very correct in that, for next time I am not letting you out of my sight!"_

_"Yeah! You humans are just too fragile to be left unsupervised!" _Minna laughed.

Caleb chuckled and sat up slowly, "It's nice to know that you care, Niñala, Minna. But, you might want to calm down, " he said and pointed to the men who had back up a great distance and their hands were reaching for their weapons, "you are scaring the other men."

The three sisters shared a look, and then let out a barking laugh, walking away and muttering about cleaning their claws of orc-scum.

"You have no need to fear them, they do not eat or harm human's in any way. I am Caleb, the adopted son of the Silverfang tribe, Prince of Wolves." he bowed deeply, ignoring the shocked faces, "Are there any who are injured severely? I will do what I can to help them."

The young man who had pulled out the arrow shook out of his shock and nodded, "Yes, our Steward was injured and nine other men are wounded badly as well. The rest of us only bare small wounds, sir."

Caleb nodded, "What is your name?"

"G-Garad sir."

Caleb smiled benevolently, "Lead the way then, Garad."

* * *

Though the wounds of the men were small, Caleb was exhausted from all the healing he had to do. He collapsed against a tree, listening to the inquiries of Garad as best as he could, for he spoke very fast when he was excited.

"If you are human and not a beast, then why do you look the way you do?" he asked, not really giving Caleb time to answer any of his other questions.

"I would also like to know that, Prince of Wolves."

Caleb lifted his heavy head to meet the dark eyes of the Steward of Gondor.

Caleb sighed and told the truth, but not all of it, "A while back, I healed Mortia with my little gift; which in return, grants me a trait of the being I healed. Now that I think of it, something should be changing about me now. . ." he mumbled," . . . wonder what it'll be."

"Gift? What gift?"

"I don't know, I have always had it; but I do call it the Gift of the Healing Aura." Caleb lied, "I'm begging your pardon, my Lord, but our names have not been exchanged."

"I am Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor." He bowed formally, "I must express my gratitude for assisting me and my men in this battle, and also for saving my wife and son."

Caleb felt himself growing tired, "It was no trouble. We were hunting those orc for quite a few days--"

He felt a shift in his body, something changed, "What changed?"

Garad was quick to answer, "Your hair is longer, and you are not so – _boney_ now."

Caleb burst out laughing, "I think this -- _gift__ --_ of mine is going to drive me to insanity!" he shook his head in mirth, "Little One, you can come out of hiding now."

"Humph! How'd you know I was there?" the small boy asked grumpily.

The son of Denethor came out from a small brush by the tree, blushing cutely, and looking very guilty.

"I could hear you."

"Boromir! Go back to your mother." Denethor commanded.

"Why were you hiding back there, Little One?"

Boromir looked between his father and the man who saved his mommy. He ducked his head, and murmured his answer. He looked up through his lashes to the kind, silver-haired man, to see him smiling. Boromir, forgetting his father, jumped at the man, hugging him fiercely.

"Thank you for saving Mother."

Caleb tensed in surprise, and then relaxed slightly. He chuckled, "You are welcome. You should go now, I have something to discuss with your father."

Boromir ran off quickly, and Caleb looked to Denethor, who was looking oddly back at him.

"Children always seem to trust me; I have no idea why though--"he motioned to himself, "I have to be pretty scary looking with these oh so frightening claws and teeth. Anyways, as I told Boromir I have something to discuss with you."

"What would that be, Prince?"

"I was wondering if I could travel back to Gondor with you, my Lord. I have not seen much more of Middle-earth than the lands of the Silverfang tribe."

He considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "If that is what you wish, I would be happy to invite you along."

_'Sweet.__ . . that was easy.' _Caleb celebrated the easy victory in his head; and outwardly smiled and gave the Steward of Gondor his thanks.


End file.
